


A Helping...Hand?

by magisterpavus



Series: Voltron NSFW Week [8]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, Alien Biology, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aphrodisiacs, Apologies, Bondage, Choking, Come Inflation, Crying Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Cuddling & Snuggling, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Healing Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Minor Injuries, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Penetration, Nonverbal Communication, Oral Sex, Other, Overstimulation, Protectiveness, Safe Sane and Consensual, Size Kink, Slime, Spitroasting, Stomach Bulge, Suspension, Tentacle Dick, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, but it is, i dont even think tags exist for some of the filth that goes on in this fic lol, yeah bet you didnt expect to see that tag on a tentacle fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-22 21:04:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11974986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: “It’s kinda cute,” Lance mused as the plant oozed blue slime all over his hand and wrapped a tiny green tendril around his thumb. “Aww, look!”“Sure, cute, in a Cthulhu’s spawn sort of way,” Pidge muttered. “Put that thing back where it came from or so help me, Lance.”“No way,” Lance said, holding the plant to his chest protectively. “I think itlikesme.”(DAY 8: FREE DAY -TENTACLES!)





	A Helping...Hand?

**Author's Note:**

> I think I may have written one of the only semi-slowburn angsty tentacle fics in existence, oops. But Chiquita is a tentacle monster with so much personality she's basically an OC, I've grown attached, _I_ want a Chiquita, thanks very much. In one alternate reality I better have a Chiquita. 
> 
> and yeah, Chiquita is a pun, it means "little lady" but it's also the name of that banana company. Get it? Bananas...tentacles...dicks...ha, ha. Sigh. How did my life get to this point?
> 
> Yeah, you guys, I really don't know what else to say about this. Just. Read it. And share your thoughts, coherent or otherwise.....and you know what, no regrets, I'm not even sorry. Neither is Lance. Laquita 4ever
> 
> kinkshame me on tumblr [@saltyshiro](http://saltyshiro.tumblr.com/)
> 
> p.s. [this](http://saltyshiro.tumblr.com/post/164605921191/saltyshiro-im-literally-designing-a-tentacle) is what chiquita looks like (as a seedling, at least)

“I don’t like caves,” Hunk said for the fifth time in five minutes. “Have I mentioned how much I don’t like caves?!”

“Sucks for you, since your girlfriend lives a cave,” Pidge retorted, shining her flashlight beam at the ominous stalactites hanging down above them. “Anyway, we’re almost there…Coran said the mineral deposits were near here.” She showed Hunk the coordinates beeping on her wrist GPS. Hunk did not look comforted.

“Shay isn’t my girlfriend,” Hunk mumbled, hunching his shoulders to duck under a particularly low-hanging curtain of gross wet lichen. 

“Keep tellin’ yourself that,” Lance laughed, shaking his head and patting Hunk on the back. “We all know you talk to her over the comms every night, loverboy.”

Hunk spluttered. “I – I do not –!”

Pidge held up a hand. “Quiet. Do you guys hear that?”

Hunk froze, looking around fearfully. Lance cocked his head. There was a distant, guttural snarl and a scraping sound like nails on a chalkboard, and the three of them exchanged looks. “Y’know,” Hunk said, “I think I’m good, how about I just wait here and hold down the fort while you guys – Pidge? Pidge! Aw, c’mon, Lance, not you too!”

“Hey, we figured we’d run into a cave beast eventually, right?” Lance called over his shoulder as he jogged after Pidge towards the source of the sounds, further into the cave.

Hunk threw up his hands in exasperation and hurried after them.

It was almost disappointing when they rounded the corner and saw a cat-sized alien that vaguely resembled an anglerfish with stubby legs and a long tail. Hardly a cave beast, but…it _was_ attacking something, a small greenish blob that was trying to wedge itself into a crevice between two rocks to escape, waving green tendrils about a finger’s length long in the anglerfish alien’s face as if to ward it off.

“Hey!” Lance yelled, tossing a nearby rock at the anglerfish alien. It leapt away from the blob with a yelp, baring its long needle teeth at him. Lance grabbed for his bayard and the movement startled the alien, which let out a shriek and bounded off into the darkness with its tail between its legs. The green blob remained in the crevice, quivering, tendrils curling in fearfully as Lance knelt down in front of it and reached out.

“Lance, what’re you doing?” Hunk hissed. “That thing could be poisonous, or worse, some kind of facehugger egg sac parasite thing! Don’t touch it!”

“Shh, not so loud, you’re scaring it,” Lance reproached, crooking his finger at the blob. “It’s okay, little buddy, we’re not gonna hurt you.”

Two thin tendrils curled cautiously out of the crevice. They were mottled green with a lighter yellowish underside, and wiggled like antennae. “Huh,” Pidge said, kneeling down next to Lance. “I wonder if those are like sensory organs…?”

They must’ve been, because the blob seemed to realize the predator was gone and slipped out of the crevice with a wet squelching sound. Lance caught it in his cupped palms before it could hit the hard ground and Hunk made a despairing noise. The blob flinched at the contact with his skin, curling back in on itself as Lance lifted it up to eye level. “Hi,” he said. “My name’s Lance.”

Tentatively, the tendrils uncurled from where they’d been covering it, revealing a sort of bulb in the center like a closed flower bud. The bulb was made up of three leaf-shaped sections and covered in tiny translucent protrusions like soft hairs. Adorably, it had two dark blue oval spots on the two far sections that looked like drawn-on eyes.

It was pretty small, no bigger than a tennis ball, with four primary tendrils and lots of tiny ones. As they uncurled, Lance noticed one of the four primaries had been severed at the tip, probably by the alien’s sharp teeth, and was dripping a brownish liquid like sap, different from the bright blue substance it was secreting from its…skin? Leaves? Vines?

“It’s injured,” Lance said, touching the damaged tendril gently. The blob quivered but didn’t flinch away this time. “Looks like that thing took a bite out of it.”

Pidge frowned, peering at the creature. “It’s like some kind of…sentient plant. It has what look like roots, but I think it was just attached to the cave wall like a suction cup…barnacle…thing.”

“It’s kinda cute,” Lance mused as the plant oozed blue slime all over his hand and wrapped a tiny green tendril around his thumb. “Aww, look!”

“Sure, cute, in a Cthulhu’s spawn sort of way,” Pidge muttered. “Put that thing back where it came from or so help me, Lance.”

“No way,” Lance said, holding the plant to his chest protectively. “I think it _likes_ me.”

The plant _did_ seem to like the warmth of his body and curled closer, tendrils stroking curiously at the smooth texture of his armor. “I guess it doesn’t look super dangerous,” Hunk conceded, though he still kept his distance. “But you better have Coran take a look at it to figure out what it even _is_.”

“It’s mine, is what it is,” Lance retorted. “I wanted a space puppy, but like, I’ll take what I can get.”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “That is about a far from a space puppy as you can possibly get, Lance.”

“I think she’s just jealous,” he told the plant. It smeared blue slime over his armor. “See, it even matches, two blues, we were meant to be.”

“Ugh,” Pidge said. “Fine, keep your weird tentacle plant, just don’t come crying to me when it eats you.”

*

The plant did not eat him.

And it was, Coran had determined, a plant – or something like a plant, anyway, it didn’t use photosynthesis as far as he could tell. Which made sense, since they’d found it in a cave and all. It apparently absorbed the minerals and organisms on the cave walls, but it survived off of the food goo just fine – probably better than any of the paladins did, to be honest.

Coran had helped Lance set up a large container to put the plant in, and poured food goo in the bottom for it to absorb. The plant was timid and its injured tendril was healing slowly, so it preferred a deeper container where it could hide in the shadow. The plant had very limited mobility, and didn’t do much, but Lance appreciated it anyway.

He’d always wanted pets growing up, but with a dad allergic to cats, a mom allergic to dogs, and two sisters who were collectively terrified of rodents, reptiles, bugs, and birds, he hadn’t had a ton of options. He’d gotten a betta fish, but betta fish couldn’t do fun pet things like play fetch and do tricks.

The plant, which he affectionately dubbed Chiquita, couldn’t do those things either, but it seemed to enjoy being petted, and often petted him back as best it could. It was still nervous around the other paladins and stayed curled up whenever Lance took Chiquita out of “her” pot and carried her around the Castle. She preferred to be in Lance’s jacket pocket, peeking out with her tendrils, and even kept the slime to a minimum, which Lance thanked her for. Pidge thought he was crazy, but Lance thought Chiquita was pretty smart.

“See, she’s like an octopus,” he insisted, setting her down on the dining table and ignoring Hunk’s squawk of dismay. “Octopuses are smart; each one of their tentacles is like its own brain, so they’re good at problem-solving.”

“Chiquita doesn’t solve problems, she slimes everywhere,” Pidge grumbled.

Keith was intrigued, though. “I’ve seen those octopus videos where they open peanut butter jars and stuff. Do you think Chiquita could do that?”

Chiquita wobbled like a particularly anxious lump of lime Jell-O. Lance patted her reassuringly and said, “Sure she can. Shiro, toss me that bottle of juice by the sink!”

Shiro sighed. “Lance, we have bottle openers.” But he walked over and handed Lance the bottle, eying Chiquita before sitting next to Keith and watching with vague interest.

“Okay, Chiquita,” Lance said, putting the bottle in front of her, “try to open it!”

“Lance, she’s too little,” Hunk pointed out. “Even if she _somehow_ figures out how to open it, she’s not strong enough to. Pidge can’t even open those on her own and she has actual hands.”

“I can too!” Pidge huffed. “I just…always ask you to open bottles for me because it’s faster.”

“Uh-huh,” Hunk said, unconvinced. “Well, she’s doing something…”

Chiquita was tentatively feeling out the bottle cap, flinching back at the cold metal ridges but remaining interested. Her tendril was all healed up now, and she wrapped two of the primaries around the cap, sliding them around to no avail. Chiquita paused, and used all four of them instead, shoving the smaller tendrils under the edges of the cap and tugging.

The table fell silent. Chiquita kept working at the cap, making little torquing motions and quivering resolutely, and then, with a loud _pop_ , she ripped the cap off.

Juice spilled all over the table and Chiquita began absorbing it, content.

“Holy shit,” Lance said.

“I wanted you to keep that thing away from me before, but now I’m extra sure,” Hunk whispered.

“It’s…intelligent,” Pidge said. “Does it have a brain?! I thought it was a plant!”

“Smart plant,” Shiro remarked, before leaving the table with Keith, who looked mildly freaked out.

“It’s intelligent and it’s _strong_ , that’s like, a recipe for disaster!” Hunk exclaimed. “Have you seen any sci-fi movies ever, Lance?! Smart strong alien life forms with tentacles are _bad_!”

“Chiquita isn’t bad,” Lance said defensively, scooping her up from the puddle of juice and going over to the sink to rinse her off. “I told you she could do it, and she did!”

“I dunno, man,” Hunk said, shaking his head, “something about it gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

Lance stuck his tongue out at him.

Chiquita waved her tendrils enthusiastically under the running water.

*

Chiquita was…not so _ita_ anymore.

Lance hadn’t noticed it at first, but the plant was growing. Fast. Her central bulb went from the size of a tennis ball to a basketball to a large beach ball over the span of several weeks, and the number of tendrils, which were now large enough that Lance felt forced to call them tentacles like everyone else, multiplied alarmingly. The only way Lance could carry her around the Castle was by actually carrying her, and the first time Hunk saw Chiquita clinging to Lance’s back with her tentacles draped every which way, he screamed and thought she was attacking him.

Chiquita hadn’t gotten aggressive, though – she was as chill as ever, still liked giving and receiving pets and sitting in her pot even though it was getting a little small. She would usually just stay there and leave the ends of her tentacles draped over the sides – Lance didn’t know if she could sleep, but she sure seemed more lethargic than when he’d first gotten her. Maybe it was just growing pains. Plant puberty?

He hoped she was okay. It was nice to have company in his room, even if the company was a little unconventional. Lance didn’t like being alone, and he got the impression the plant didn’t, either. Whenever he got back from missions she would curl a few tentacles towards him and nudge at his hands and face as if to check that everything was okay.

One time, Lance came back with a pretty nasty burn on his left palm – he’d tripped while running and fallen on a discarded Galra phaser, still hot from firing. He hadn’t told the rest of the team about it because Pidge had gotten badly injured and everyone was busy worrying about getting her into a healing pod ASAP, so he didn’t want to draw any attention away from her.

But as he stripped off his suit and turned to say hello to Chiquita, the plant poked at the burn on his hand and _panicked_. Seriously, Lance didn’t know how else to describe it, but instantly her already sizeable amount of tentacles were joined by dozens more, smaller and shooting up from inside her bulb as it cracked open slightly, which it had never done before.

Before he could react, Lance had a handful of frantically squirming tendrils, all of them oozing blue over his skin and prodding persistently at the rest of his body, presumably to check for more damage. Lance laughed in surprise, ticklish and confused, and the plant backed off from the sudden groping session.

Chiquita kept a firm hold on his hand, though, surrounding it in tight green coils, and when she wouldn’t let go Lance panicked and called for Coran to help. At least the plant’s ooze didn’t sting at all, it was cool and soothing and when Coran hurried in, the tentacles retreated to reveal the burn, less red than before and covered in a layer of ooze. It didn’t even hurt anymore.

“Amazing,” Coran declared as he examined the injury. “The plant’s secretions seem to have acted as a healing ointment; I ought to take a sample to see what exactly is in it. This is quite a handy pet you have here, Lance!”

Hunk came to see what the commotion was about, and when he saw Lance’s burned hand he exclaimed, “Oh my god, did Chiquita do that to you?!”

Lance frowned. “No, I burned myself during the mission,” he said.

Hunk’s eyes widened. “And you _hid_ it? Lance, you gotta tell us if something’s wrong, what if it got infected or –”

“Nobody noticed, you guys were busy with Pidge, she got hurt a lot worse,” Lance muttered.

“It’s alright now; the plant evidently has medicinal qualities!” Coran said brightly.

Hunk looked hurt. “Lance, buddy, I’m just worried, y’know. Pidge is fine now, anyway.”

“And so am I,” Lance said, forcing a smile and showing him his hand. “Chiquita’s on it.”

Hunk looked at the burn and then at Chiquita, who was softly stroking a tentacle against Lance’s hip. “Hm,” he said. “Maybe she’s not so bad after all.”

*  
Chiquita’s ooze, according to Coran’s sample analysis, was basically like aloe vera gel on steroids.

“It’s loaded with antioxidants, vitamins, and has high concentrations of zinc and nutrients like choline and folic acid – no wonder she almost got eaten before you found her, she’s basically a superfood!”

“Nobody is eating Chiquita!” Lance exclaimed.

“Hey don’t look at me, I don’t wanna eat her!” Hunk retorted, putting his hands up. “We just found out Chiquita’s cool!”

“She was always cool,” Lance said.

“So what you’re saying is the ooze is edible?” Pidge asked suspiciously. “Like, totally edible, no side effects or anything?”

“Don’t lick Chiquita either,” Lance warned. Pidge made a face and flicked an eraser at him.

“Er…” Coran frowned and scrolled through the data again. “It appears to be benign, yes. Although there are a few chemical signatures here that I’ve never seen before…somewhat similar to amphetamine, it seems.”

Pidge folded her arms. “Where have I heard of that before?”

“Oh, well, on Altea amphetamine was a stimulant used in smaller doses to treat hyperactivity disorders in children,” Coran said.

“Yeah, that’s it; it’s used in ADHD meds!” Pidge said. “Isn’t it dangerous in higher doses, though?”

“Not for Alteans!” Coran said cheerfully. “It just gives us a little extra kick, brightens the mood, helps athletes, too! I’m not surprised something so useful is in Chiquita’s miracle mucus –”

“Please don’t call it that,” Hunk said, scrunching up his nose. “Ugh.”

“Technically not mucus,” Coran agreed, “more like –”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Hunk grumbled.

“I swear there’s something else that amphetamine does,” Pidge said under her breath, brow furrowed. “Man…nope, I just can’t remember.”

“You’re getting old, pigeon,” Lance teased. “Has your sixteen years of life taken a toll on you already?”

Pidge snorted and flicked another eraser at him. “Ha, ha. _You’re_ taking a toll on me.”

Lance knew she was joking, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

*

Lance woke up feeling hot all over, the air too thick and heavy, his blanket suffocating. He kicked it off, fumbling to remove his sleep-mask, blinking groggily as his eyes adjusted to the dim blue glow of his room. Absently, he slid a hand down his pajama pants, remembering bits and pieces of the dream that had awoken him…skin on skin, long hair, a warm hand, a warmer mouth…it had been a good dream. Lance sighed, tipping his head back against his pillow, lashes fluttering as he stroked his cock and tried desperately to remember the rest of the dream.

A movement out of the corner of his eye made Lance pause, lifting his head cautiously and blinking at Chiquita’s pot. She was usually inactive when he turned the overhead lights off, but right now all of her tentacles were moving, swaying back and forth, tasting the air like snake tongues.

When Lance cleared his throat, embarrassed even though she had no way of seeing him, all the tentacles whipped around and pointed towards him, still swaying. Lance opened his mouth, then closed it. This was…a little fucked up. But his dick was still hard. Really…really hard.

Lance wasn’t an idiot, okay. He’d seen some weird porn in his time. The thought had admittedly been in his mind ever since Pidge referred to Chiquita as a tentacle monster, but he’d tried his best to ignore it, because Chiquita was…well, maybe it was wrong to call her pure and innocent; she was an alien plant, not a kid. Lance highly doubted plants had concepts of morality. But Chiquita had an awareness, that much he was certain of, and empathy to some degree. Empathy for him, definitely.

Probably.

Hopefully.

He bit his lip, mentally debating how stupid slash desperate he really was, and then muttered, “Fuck it,” and climbed out of bed, padding over on bare feet to Chiquita’s pot. The tentacles followed his movements, more of them rising out as if to greet him. They looked eerie and more alien than ever in the near-darkness, blue ooze illuminated by the blue floor lights where it dripped from the pores on the underside – there was more of it than usual, Lance swore. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

He hesitated, and then reached out to them, breath coming out in a rush when they seized his arm, touch gentling as they curled around his wrist and wriggled between his fingers, webbing them with sticky slime. They kept a loose grip on him, easy to break free of…but Lance didn’t think he wanted to break free.

“Hi,” he said to Chiquita, to the bulb which he could see if he looked down into the pot. The bulb cracked open in apparent response, more tendrils and larger tentacles slithering out of the gaps, arching up above his head. Lance stared, his heart hammering in his chest – Chiquita had grown more than he’d thought. Each new tentacle had to be at least eight feet long and as wide as his thighs at their thickest point, easily reaching up to the ceiling, and there were dozens of them.

They didn’t seize him as the first one had, though, just remained where they were, quivering slightly in anticipation, or apprehension, Lance didn’t know. They were all dripping blue, and the liquid glowed in the darkness as it made contact with his skin, tingling pleasantly. It was warm, he realized, not cool like the ooze on his burn had been. Could she control that, too? Did she want…was there intent in what she was doing now; if there had been intent when she’d tried to heal him?

“Guess you’re not actually a she, huh,” Lance joked, the tentacle stilling on his arm, the tip flexing against his inner elbow. “More of an…it. But that sounds kinda rude, don’t you think?”

Chiquita’s tentacles swayed, silent. Lance swallowed. “Listen…this is gonna sound stupid, but…I really don’t wanna take advantage of you? I don’t even know if that’s possible, but, you’re a good plant…pet…friend…alien, and I don’t wanna just, like, use you.” His brow furrowed. “I dunno if you even understand the concept of sex; but I know you like affection, and I think you like me at least a little, so – um. Ch-chiquita?!” His voice pitched higher, because suddenly there were two tentacles rubbing determinedly at his dick through his pajama pants, coaxing it back into full hardness and soaking the fabric with slime.

The tentacles above him continued to loom. Like…like they were _waiting._

“So – so is this your way of saying hell yeah?” Lance managed as a third tentacle wriggled under his waistband and _into_ his pants, looping around his cock immediately, another slithering over his balls and cradling them in a slippery grip. “Ah – f-fuck, I’ll – take that as a yes…”

There were more slipping up both arms, thinner tendrils that seemed very curious about exploring his bare chest, circling timidly around his nipples and making his breath hitch. The tendrils took that as a cue to continue, smearing slick glowing blue over them, the tingling warmth quickly hardening the sensitive buds. This change seemed to delight the tendrils, which rubbed over them a bit more roughly, latching onto them in a way that almost felt like sucking. Lance felt dizzy. This was really happening? This was really happening.

As if sensing his shock, a larger tentacle stroked gently at his cheek, and Lance leaned into the touch. “I know you’re not bad,” he murmured, petting the length of it and not caring when his hands came away bioluminescent. “You’ll take care of me, won’t you?”

The tentacles quivered happily, more of them wrapping around him and sliding under his clothes, though…not necessarily in a sexual way. It was more like…a hug. A very strange hug. But a good one nonetheless. The tentacle on his face stroked his cheek a few more times, unmistakably fond, before the blunt tip teased over his bottom lip, and slid away.

It left the fluid behind, and Lance’s tongue darted out to taste before he thought better of it. His eyes widened. It was…it was sweet, fresh and pleasant; tingling on his tongue just like it had everywhere else. The tendrils on his cock had figured out how to stroke in tandem, and others were slowly tugging his pajama pants down, and Lance…Lance just let it happen. Several smaller tendrils brushed lightly over his mouth and tensed in surprise when Lance licked them, a blatant invitation.

There was a long pause during which all of the tentacles slowed in their individual tasks as if _thinking_ , and then the three tendrils shoved into his mouth, each one about as wide as a finger, stretching his lips as they curled and twisted against his tongue and then his throat, spilling the sweet liquid all the while. Lance’s eyes fluttered shut, moaning around them as they pressed deeper, testing his limits. Once they found them, though, Lance’s gagging startled them and they hastily retreated, brushing apologetically against the drooling corners of his mouth. 

“It’s okay,” Lance croaked, “I – it feels good, I know you won’t hurt me. I…I trust you.”

Chiquita’s larger tentacles reacted to that immediately, plunging down from the ceiling and surrounding him in a mass of writhing green and blue, the tendrils yanking his pants off fully so that he was entirely naked as the thicker appendages wrapped securely around him. They pushed between his legs, wrapping around his upper thighs, the friction so good and like nothing he’d ever felt before, even better when two of the largest ones teamed up to rub on either side of his cock, trapping it between them.

Lance arched and moaned, his sound cut off by a single, thicker tentacle pushing back into his mouth. He sucked it instinctively, and the tentacle wriggled in approval, coating his tongue and throat in sweetness as he drank greedily from the plant. There was a slight strain in his shoulders as smaller tentacles wound around his arms and held them up over his head, his fingers twitching as the tendrils continued to play between them, relaxing and tightening around his wrists as if massaging them, keeping the blood flowing so they wouldn’t go numb.

His attention was abruptly diverted to the tentacles under him, supporting his back in a constantly writhing sort of net, and when Lance hazily turned his head he realized _Chiquita had him suspended six feet above the floor._ He gasped around the tentacle in his mouth – this plant had to be unbelievably strong to do that, to hold him up so effortlessly while touching him in so many different ways. Lance was completely at her mercy, and found that he wasn’t as worried about that as he maybe should have been.

More tentacles squeezed and rubbed their way around his cock and over his balls, experimental and curious. Chiquita was a fast learner and seemed to have determined this was the most responsive part of his body, redoubling her efforts there. Lance felt weirdly weightless as the tentacles supported him and covered his cock in warm, thick fluid, a few of them wriggling inquisitively over the swollen, leaking head and once dipping _into_ his slit.

Lance yelled hoarsely at that but the sound was barely audible, the tentacle in his mouth was fucking his throat in earnest now. Lance’s hips jumped up, and the tendrils repeated the motion again and again until his cock was twitching and dribbling out precum uncontrollably. The sensations were overwhelming, there were tiny tendrils swarming over his balls and fondling them with their flat, slick tips, dripping ooze over his skin. He felt it slide down, down, down, under his balls and over his hole, and he felt it wink open in response.

His face burned and his heart stuttered, sure that the tendrils would try to investigate. But they didn’t touch him there, skirting delicately around that part of him and focusing solely on his cock. His cock had definitely never been this hard before and the tentacles were curled tight around the base to keep him that way; pressure was building in his gut and Lance _needed_ to come, tried to convey this to the plant by tugging against his bonds and bucking his hips, desperate for release.

Chiquita responded at once, and as Lance watched with wide eyes, one of the thicker tentacles slithered over his thigh and _opened_ , qué carajo, it was like a giant living fleshlight, that was the only thing that he could think of – there was a gaping, slick hole, it was _hollow_ , and that was all he had time to process before it plunged onto his cock and _sucked_.

Lance shouted around the tentacle fucking his mouth and writhed, fucking up into the tight heat as the hollow tentacle constricted around his length, wringing his orgasm out of him and milking him dry with some slightly disturbing slurping sounds, but it felt fucking _amazing_ , so he didn’t even care. The hollow tentacle didn’t pull off when he began to soften, though, just kept applying suction, teasing him back into hardness. Lance’s eyes rolled back in his head, toes curling and legs kicking out reflexively. By the time it finally popped off, his cock was half-hard again, absolutely covered in glowing blue ooze.

The smaller tendrils didn’t stroke over it; to Lance’s confusion, they instead wriggled down to his inner thighs and…Lance swallowed hard as the tentacle in his mouth stretched his lips wider, pulsing as if in excitement. The tendrils were tugging his legs apart as the tentacles wrapped around his thighs pried them open. Lance was flexible, he’d prided himself on being able to do the splits for years, but the stretch of his legs from this angle was _obscene_ , and he felt wide-open and vulnerable, staring cross-eyed at the ominously large and empty space between his spread legs. All of the tentacles wriggled like the one in his mouth, practically vibrating with anticipation.

And then, deep in the pot on the floor, the bulb opened fully, unfurling like a flower to reveal what was coiled within, and Lance immediately reassessed the situation, sheer panic coursing through his body like wildfire.

Because there was no way, _no fucking way_ that Chiquita was a pure, untouched plant when she ( _DEFINITELY NOT A SHE_ , his brain screeched) had a _giant tentacle cock._

Lance screamed in terror around the tentacle in his mouth, biting at it, squirming and trying to close his legs to no avail as the massive tentacle lifted towards him, a shade darker than the others with a ridged, bumpy foreskin that peeled back to reveal a shiny, throbbing, _pink_ head that was literally as big as Lance’s head, it wasn’t going to fit, _he was going to be torn in half by a tentacle monster._ The cock itself was as wide as his torso, maybe even wider, and Lance squeezed his eyes shut as the tentacles around his thighs spread him further.

The cock nudged at the cleft of his ass and Lance whimpered, feeling it force its way between his cheeks and rub, and…he tentatively opened his eyes. It wasn’t trying to penetrate him. It was just sliding rhythmically between his thighs, giving him friction, and…yeah. Yeah, that felt fucking amazing, especially when the huge, slick head rubbed against his cock, smooth and fleshy, leaking a fluid that was not blue but clearish white.

Lance slowly relaxed, giving the tentacle in his mouth a soft, apologetic suck for biting it earlier, and it shivered before gushing warmth down his throat and curling out and away. Lance swallowed the substance – it tasted different than the rest, a little saltier, muskier, more like…actual cum. He shuddered at the thought and the tentacle cock seemed to like the movement, sliding fully against him.

The tentacles holding him shifted him upright, and Lance didn’t resist, moaning in realization when they repositioned him so he was straddling the huge length of the tentacle cock as it slithered between his legs, wide enough that there was a slight, protesting burn in his thighs. It was worth it though, when the head of the tentacle cock slid up to eye-level, other tentacles urging Lance to lean against the thick length of it until his entire front was pressed to the slippery, textured foreskin.

It felt incredible against his cock, and other tendrils guided his arms to wrap around the massive length until he was clinging to it with his arms and legs, moaning as it started to rock and writhe under and against him. The bumps over it were like gentle suction cups, each one oozing clear warm liquid, and felt like tongues and lips against his skin, licking eagerly between his legs as he literally rode the tentacle cock. Unthinking, Lance rubbed his face against the head – it just looked so soft, and it _was_ , silky smooth pink smearing wet across his cheek and twitching visibly at the contact, the rest of the length throbbing with it.

“Guess you’re _really_ not a girl,” Lance chuckled. The tentacle sort of shrugged, as if to say, _Your mere human standards of sex are very limiting, call me what you wish._

Lance ran his hands over the slick, strange skin and played with the head, intrigued by the slit there. The tentacle bucked powerfully under him when Lance’s fingers dipped into it, emerging sticky with white fluid. Speculatively, Lance stuck his fingers in his mouth and sucked it off, and that was definitely cum. Better than human cum, though.

Lance thought about how much there would be when it came and groaned, suddenly wanting that very much, as if he wasn’t covered in alien substances enough already. He was about ninety percent sure there was something funny in Chiquita’s ooze, and hoped it wasn’t possible to overdose…then again, _what a way to go._

Lance was now determined to make Chiquita come – because the tentacle cock seemed to be her core, the other tentacles following its lead. Lance vaguely wondered if that meant Chiquita literally thought with her dick …space was wild. He held on tightly to the tentacle cock and started moving, rolling his hips and rutting his rapidly hardening cock against the foreskin. The tentacle quivered appreciatively and began to thrust as well, using his thighs and chest as friction, careful not to move fast enough to dislodge him.

Lazily, Lance licked at the head of its cock, and it nudged encouragingly at his lips, prompting him to suckle at it as best he could. It felt like really fucked up kissing, he was making out with a giant alien tentacle cock, but…it was nice. Really, really nice, because other tentacles were smoothing over his exposed back and looping loosely around his neck with sucking touches that felt like hickeys; some dry tendrils stroked through his hair sweetly, ruffling it like fingers; still others feathered over his arms and legs and face as if simply to check up on him.

Lance had always liked being touched, had always been the clingy friend, the hugger, the one with no concept of personal space – and he was pretty sure he’d finally met his match.

Lance tightened his thighs and arms around the tentacle cock, grinding onto it and moaning against the swelling cockhead as it leaked over his lips, sticky white dripping down his chin and over his chest, smearing onto the foreskin and making the slide even easier. His nipples chafed against the tentacle on every thrust, his cock was snugly trapped between Lance’s abs and the tentacle, and his hole felt slick and open.

Idly, he imagined the cock entering him, somehow, filling him completely, pumping him full as it wriggled deeper. He moaned against the head and squirmed invitingly down onto the length, widening his legs and bending his knees so he was grinding his ass against it. The tentacle’s thrusts immediately sped up, until Lance was bouncing atop it, utterly shameless.

“Wish you could fuck me,” Lance told Chiquita, sure she could hear him and understand at least on some level, if only in his tone of voice. “Next time…”

The tentacle practically vibrated, more liquid leaking from its slit as if in warning, and then Lance gave it a few more sloppy licks and it jolted almost violently, spurting thick, hot, gloppy white all over his face and chest. Lance gasped and came, too, slumping against the cock and whining as it continued to move through its climax, wriggling and lowering slowly to the ground.

Smaller tendrils were moving over him, and he felt them swiping the mess away, others easing him onto the floor. Lance stayed wrapped around the softening tentacle cock, hugging it like a stubborn koala until the fleshy tip poked his face, affectionately exasperated, and he let go with a reluctant grumble. It slithered away, coiling back into the bulb with the others. It sealed shut again, as if it had never opened at all.

In its absence he was cold, and shivered, at once aware of his nakedness and the fluids cooling on his skin. Chiquita was on it, though – there were some clunks and thumps and when Lance blearily lifted his head he saw tentacles rifling through his cabinets, emerging victorious with clean towels. He patted the tentacles and smiled when they began cleaning him off attentively. The scent of the ooze, sweet and tickling at the back of his nose, remained; but otherwise they managed to make him presentable (which was an impressive feat considering what just went down).

The tentacles had dried up, the plant’s skin cool and slightly rough when it nudged against him. Lance yawned and tried to push himself up to stand, but his knees wobbled and he collapsed again. The tentacles rushed to him in alarm, catching him before he could fall and lifting him to his bed where they set him down gently. Chiquita tapped his forehead lightly with a tendril as others pulled the sheets over him and then retreated.

“Goodnight,” Lance slurred, turning his face into the pillow. “Sleep tight, Chiquita.”

Chiquita squeezed his shoulder and then the tentacles curled back into the pot, and Lance sank into the deepest sleep of his life.

*

The next day, Pidge dropped her spoon during breakfast and exclaimed through a mouthful of bootleg space Froot Loops, “An aphrodisiac!”

Shiro choked on his juice. Keith patted his back and said, “Not sure I even want to know, but _what_ , Pidge?”

Pidge gestured impatiently with her reclaimed spoon and flicked milk onto Hunk’s nose. “Amphetamine! It’s a potent, proven aphrodisiac in large, concentrated doses! Like Viagra but waaay stronger.”

Lance tried his best to keep a straight face and not hide in his cereal. “And _how_ do you know that, pigeon?”

“All I wanted was to eat breakfast in peace,” Shiro told his juice cup. “Is that really so much to ask?”

“Aphrodisiacs increase libido, correct?” Allura piped up from where she was helping Coran make some kind of smoothies.

Shiro sighed and put his head in his hands. “Yes,” Keith said.

“Don’t be nasty, Lance, I’m just smart,” Pidge retorted.

“You’re pretty nasty, Pidge,” Hunk pointed out.

Pidge let out a cry of mock rage and grabbed for his headband, and by the time they’d finished their scuffle the topic was long-forgotten by all except Lance.

He had _definitely_ accidentally adopted an alien sex plant. And honestly? He had no regrets.

*

Chiquita was waiting for him that night.

As soon as the door shut behind him, he was enveloped in a squirmy tentacle hug, and Chiquita did her usual check-up on him, this time poking inquisitively under his clothes to check for injuries. Lance was weirdly embarrassed by the plant’s attentiveness – or maybe he was just…unused to it. The rest of the team definitely didn’t go to such great pains to make sure he was okay; then again Lance didn’t want the rest of the team to be groping him like Chiquita, so.

Once she was satisfied, a tendril patted him gently on the head in approval, which made Lance burst out laughing. Chiquita seemed deeply confused by the outburst, tentacles initially rushing to him worriedly, and then wriggling questioningly when she determined nothing was wrong. Lance let out a last giggle and shook his head, petting the nearest tendril. “It’s okay, that was just funny, it’s a good thing,” he explained. “Y’know, funny? Funny things make me laugh. Like when you tickle me, it makes me laugh too.”

The tentacles paused, as if digesting that information, and then one of them dove under his shirt and wriggled against his bare stomach with determination. Lance doubled over, cackling with laughter as more tentacles joined the tickle convention, and they were _merciless_. Finally Lance gasped, “Okay, okay, ¡basta! Chill, Chiquita.”

Chiquita retreated after a few more playful pokes, and Lance liked to imagine that the quivering of the tentacles was their own version of laughter. “Hmph,” he said with a smile, and yeah, okay, Lance had _fond feelings_ towards an alien sex plant. Sue him, it was a sweet plant.

“So,” Lance said before he could continue on that frankly pathetic line of thought. “You up for a round two?”

Chiquita’s reply was to rip his shirt off and drag him back up towards the ceiling. “Great,” Lance wheezed. “Awesome. Solid communication skills, Chiquita – nngh, okay then, right to it, yay efficiency –”

Lance’s babbling was abruptly cut off by a tentacle jamming into his mouth. _Fair enough,_ he thought, and sucked.

The tentacles worked faster this time, stripping him of his clothing with impressive dexterity and speed, coiling around his cock as soon as it was bared. Lance closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the sensations, swallowing the ooze in his throat and feeling warmth spread through him, tingling in his limbs and pooling low and hot in his stomach.

Aphrodisiac, huh? Yeah, it sure felt like it, and for not the first time Lance wondered if Chiquita could possibly have an ulterior motive, here. There had to be some reason, some evolutionary explanation for it having a giant tentacle dick and oozing sex drive, but every reason Lance could think of was Not Good.

It _was_ smart, maybe too smart, maybe even smart enough to manipulate him into a false sense of security; but Lance liked to think Chiquita was better than that. Besides, if the plant had planned to do something sinister, wouldn’t she have done so already? She had already had Lance at her mercy once, and he’d come out of that just fine, so –

Lance choked around the tentacle in his mouth as a tendril brushed purposefully between his legs, oozing over his hole. The plant paused, as if waiting to judge his reaction to this new approach. Lance cracked his eyes open and saw his legs were spread again by two large tentacles each, and choked again when his gaze fell upon the writhing mass of smaller tendrils between his legs, taking turns poking at him lightly, all of them so wet they were dripping, none breaching him, just teasing, urging his muscles to loosen. The tentacle in his mouth receded, perhaps concerned by the nervous constriction of his throat.

“Um,” Lance whispered, “No offense, but I think, like, the first rule of the hypothetical _Space Exploration Handbook_ is ‘don’t let alien sex plants put their tentacles inside you.’” The tendrils stopped moving. They actually…they actually _drooped_ , as if disappointed, and then started to retreat. “Wait, wait,” Lance said, his heart pounding. The tendrils flicked back towards him. “Carajo…fine. I did say I wanted you to last time, huh?”

To his surprise, the tendrils didn’t dive right in. They still waited, and the tentacle that had been in his mouth patted his jaw lightly, as if to say, _Are you sure?_

“Yeah, I want you to,” Lance said, exhaling. “Just. Um. I dunno, is it stupid to ask a giant tentacle plant to be gentle?”

The tentacle patted his jaw again, (Lance chose to read the gesture as reassuring) and slid back into his mouth, though not as deep as before. The tendrils pressed between his legs, searching, moving smooth and slow as if Lance was a frightened animal they didn’t wish to startle. Which…wasn’t totally inaccurate, he supposed, and their careful movements did help him relax. But when the first one breached him, it was so thin and slick that he barely felt it – what he _did_ feel was the warmth oozing into his body from its tip, and fervently prayed to whoever might be listening that he wasn’t going to seriously regret this.

Coran had said the ooze was harmless, but then again, who knew how many other things Chiquita could secrete? Like, last night when the tentacle cock had come, that had definitely been something different.

The tentacle in his mouth nudged at his throat. _Stop thinking so much._

Lance sighed and opened his mouth and his legs wider, and the tendrils took this as the go-ahead. And suddenly Lance was incapable of thinking _at all_ , because fuck, there were three tendrils stretching him open, each as wide as a finger but so much more flexible, and longer, taking their time as they curled and pushed firmly inside him, oozing all the while. Lance let out a muffled whine, face burning as he felt the ooze drip, drip, drip between his thighs, felt other tendrils pick up the reins on his cock, bumping against each other in their haste to wrap around it.

Then all three tendrils in his ass wriggled deeper and jumped inside him as if excited, and Lance had only a moment to wonder why before three tendrils pressed against his prostate in perfect unison and he yelled around the tentacle in his throat, eyes flying wide as he came in a high splatter across his chest.

The tendrils didn’t stop fucking into him, they just kept going, in fact they were moving faster; and Lance squirmed from oversensitivity, shocked and panting. A thicker tentacle curled around his cock as it softened, rubbing at it and coiling up to keep it enclosed in slick warmth like it knew exactly what he needed to get hard again.

Maybe it did know. Maybe alien sex plants possessed that kind of magical knowledge.

Lance threw back his head and gasped as a fourth tendril slipped inside, so easily that he was almost embarrassed by his own body’s eagerness. Almost. But it didn’t – it didn’t hurt, not even when a fifth joined the party, coating his insides in ooze and wriggling as deep as they dared, testing his limits just like they had with his throat on the first night. Lance hazily realized that the tentacles holding him up were all sort of…petting him, as if to soothe him, and it was working. The substance they oozed was making him slightly woozy, and he slumped into their grasp fully and relaxed as the tendrils worked him open. Pleasure sparked up his spine, and instead of feeling apprehensive he was impatient, nipping at the tentacle in his mouth and squirming more insistently.

There was a movement on the floor, and the half-open bulb unfurled the rest of the way. This time Lance was expecting the giant tentacle cock, and didn’t shy away when it slithered under his body, pressed all up along his spine, the tip curling around so the head could nudge at his face. It was almost like it was saying hello, which made Lance laugh, and the sound was muffled but the plant recognized it and quivered in delight.

The tentacle cock just sort of chilled out and undulated slowly while the tendrils encouraged Lance to slowly lose his mind, occasionally patting at his cheek when he made a particularly overwhelmed sound. Eventually, after the tentacle in his mouth had come down his throat and retreated, the pink head pressed against his mouth. Lance turned to it desperately, sucking hard to muffle his noises and get more of the sweet slickness.

Something had changed in the tendrils’ movements inside him. The five of them were stilling, but not sliding out – they were holding him open. The tentacle cock shifted away from his face, the head tucked in the crook of his neck, so Lance could see what was happening. He was still spread out on his back over the net of tentacles, at just the right angle to see another new tentacle uncurl from the open bulb.

It was thick but not impossibly so…still, Lance’s mouth went dry as it arched up over him, shaking itself a little and turning about as if to get its bearings. It seemed…stronger than the others, pure coiled muscle gleaming with wetness, and it had texture where the others were smooth…oh, coño, it almost looked like veins just below the surface of the thick, dark skin, pulsing as it moved towards him with obvious intent.

This tentacle was much darker than the others, so darkly green it was nearly black, but then it wriggled and a dark pink head emerged, fat and dripping with clear ooze. The giant tentacle cock bobbed like it was nodding to the smaller (…but not actually small by _any means_ ) tentacle cock and saying, _See, look, this one will work!_

Lance gulped. “Yeah, let’s hope so,” he muttered, and sucked in a sharp breath when the dark tentacle cock smeared over his inner thigh, pressing curiously closer as the tendrils stretched Lance open wider. His body still wasn’t protesting. And it definitely didn’t protest when the tentacle cock began to press inside of him.

A tentacle covered Lance’s mouth hastily before the entire ship could hear the frantic, half-shouted moan that bubbled past his lips as the tentacle cock filled him in a long, slow, inexorable slide. He could _feel_ every single vein and every little wriggle, he could feel the wide head drag over his prostate, he could feel the inhuman girth of it in the obscene splay of his legs and the shockingly good ache in his gut. The thing was longer than he was tall, it could have easily destroyed him from the inside out, but it was weirdly, wonderfully…gentle.

Chiquita was actually being gentle with him.

Lance’s eyes were watering, and he told himself they were not tears, he was absolutely not crying right now, but the plant didn’t seem to get that message. Little tendrils wiped at the corners of his eyes and stroked his jaw and it just made more tears leak out. The dark tentacle began to fuck in and out of him, still so tender and careful, throbbing with every thrust and oozing thick warmth deep inside that just made the fucking that much easier. Lance moaned and the tentacle around his cock tightened as it helplessly responded to the slow, thorough fucking. Lance bit his lip hard, hard enough to draw blood, and the tentacle over his mouth poked at it inquisitively before recoiling.

So Chiquita didn’t like blood. That was…well, probably in his best interests. This wasn’t gonna turn into Little Shop of Horrors, at least.

More tendrils worriedly joined the scene, hovering around the cut on his lip and quivering unhappily. Lance jerked his head away, and the tentacles holding him jolted in surprise. “Stop it,” Lance snapped, his tone startling the plant. The dark tentacle began to slip out and Lance hissed, trying to close his legs around it to keep it inside. It stayed, but trembled in bewilderment. Chiquita was confused. The giant tentacle cock curled around and nudged at his jaw, trying to tilt his chin up.

“Stop treating me like I’m…delicate or something,” he muttered. “You’re a plant, you’re not supposed to have feelings; I don’t want feelings, I want you to fuck me.”

The tentacles tightened. They seemed almost…reluctant. “Yeah,” Lance said, sounding braver than he felt, “yeah, that’s right –!” Two thicker tendrils shoved into his mouth and Lance gagged right away, his lip stinging, but he didn’t care, this was what he _wanted_ , and he sucked them messily, drool spilling out over his chin and vision spotting as they took turns cutting off his airway, choking him with syrupy ooze.

As if that wasn’t enough, the dark tentacle had really, really been holding back.

One second Lance was on his back, the next he was upright, the tendrils wrapped securely around his arms and splayed thighs the only thing stopping him from being completely impaled on the tentacle cock thrusting in and out of him with loud squelching sounds. Lance moaned and whimpered as it drove deeper, using his body relentlessly, rubbing and twisting over his prostate and swelling wider on every inwards thrust, the ridged veins catching on his rim and dragging along inside him.

Lance didn’t even want to look to see how big it had gotten, but when he finally did he let out a strangled groan – his belly was bulging outwards slightly every time the dark tentacle filled him, and that had to be _not good_ , that should have been _excruciating_ , right?! But it wasn’t, it fucking – wasn’t, it didn’t hurt, there was just constant, shifting pressure and Lance couldn’t stop himself from bucking his hips _into_ it, from trying to get it even deeper, even fuller, even though that was definitely not possible.

He was coming again. It registered as a temporary blindness, his vision filling with euphoric white and veins thrumming with adrenaline, and when he came to he was hard again. His cock was an angry shade of red; his balls looked nearly purple; the hollow tentacle appeared out of nowhere and latched onto his cock as inside him the dark tentacle was joined by little wriggling tendrils that forced themselves in alongside it, stretching him to his limit. Lance had never felt this level of ecstasy before. He’d also never felt this level of overwhelmed before, and could only let the two tendrils ravish his slack mouth as his head lolled back against the giant tentacle cock, lashes fluttering.

The tendrils inside him wriggled out quickly as the dark tentacle picked up the pace, curling and stroking at his insides. Lance arched weakly into it and the tentacle stiffened, going rigid like a real cock for a long, aching moment before it came. Lance’s eyes rolled back in his head as wave after wave of the fluid pulsed into him, and he was vaguely aware of the dark tentacle withdrawing as it spilled, sliding free of his body along with a gush of cum, splashing hot against his thighs and making him shudder…though not from disgust. He could still feel some of it inside of him, and it felt as good there as it did on his skin – warm, tingling, soothing.

The two tendrils pulled free of his mouth without coming, and Lance couldn’t even protest – couldn’t do anything but hang there limp and stunned as the hollow tentacle worked over his cock and a gaggle of tendrils played with his balls. It didn’t take long at all before he came a third time with a weak gasp and an even weaker splatter of cum that the hollow tentacle sucked up anyway, insatiable.

The tentacle cock nudged at his face, first gently, then harder when Lance didn’t respond. This prompted a flurry of motion from the others, which rushed over his skin and guided him to the ground at once, fluttering over his pulse points and his mouth to check his breathing. Lance’s chest hurt, but it had nothing to do with anything physically wrong. The tentacles were curling in on themselves and turning away, seemingly ashamed. The gesture was so ridiculously human that it inexplicably made him want to scream.

Lance closed his eyes for a moment. _Alien sex plant,_ he told himself. _It’s an alien sex plant, not your boyfriend. Girlfriend? Lover. Yeah. Not that._

Then he croaked, “Chiquita, ‘s fine. I’m good, see? Totally good.”

At the sound of his voice the tentacles curled back, hesitant when they touched him, running over his skin slowly. They paused at his thighs, and Lance saw with a detached kind of horrified fascination that the plant had left bruises where she had been holding him there. The tentacles darted back up, as if to say, _Really? This is your definition of “totally good?”_

“It’s fine,” Lance assured, because the last thing he wanted was for Chiquita to feel guilty when he was the one who couldn’t deal with his newfound…plant crush.

But was it possible for the plant have a crush on him too, that was the question.

_Ay por Dios, Espinosa, get a fucking grip._ He cleared his throat and started to sit up, and was met with resistance – Chiquita was already toweling him off almost aggressively, ruffling up his hair and scrubbing at his sticky arms and chest. The plant was careful between his legs, though, and Lance wasn’t about to tell her not to be. Not when he wasn’t even sure how he’d be able to walk in the morning – he could already feel the soreness setting in, as well as a strange and uncomfortable emptiness. Luckily he didn’t have to try to walk – Chiquita tucked him into bed just as she had the first night, and patted him again on the head. Her touch lingered a little longer, and then she slithered back into her pot, and Lance succumbed to exhausted unconsciousness.

*

He wasn’t in pain when he woke up. At first, he was mystified – there was no way, unless last night had just been the most fucked up wet dream of his life. There was an ache in his muscles as he stood and his belly felt slightly tender but…nothing actually hurt.

And then, halfway through breakfast, he remembered – the ooze. Chiquita had tried to use it to heal his burnt hand; it was literally meant to heal and ease pain.

But…Lance was pretty damn sure it was meant to treat a very specific type of pain. And again, he wondered – _why?_

And again, he was certain he really didn’t want to know.

*

The next several months were…an experience.

Chiquita had some sort of system, some criteria she must have checked off to decide whether or not Lance was up for another round each night, and what that round would entail, exactly.

Some nights it was just jerking him off and touching him while tendrils spilled sweetness over his tongue; other nights the hollow tentacle made an appearance and the playful tendrils in his mouth were replaced by more assertive tentacles; other nights the plant just teased him endlessly with feather-light brushes as she toyed with his nipples and balls and let tendrils wriggle over his prostate until he was a writhing, oversensitized mess begging to come; other nights she just fucked him with the dark tentacle while smothering his sounds against the head of the tentacle cock until both cocks came. And some nights, once in a blue moon, Chiquita would deem him fit to use all her tricks on him at once, and Lance would ascend to a new plane of blissful existence previously unknown to humankind.

Lance began to look forward to every night, not just with anticipation but with a kind of single-minded desperation, because it was a kind of escape. It was an escape from the swirling, troubled thoughts that plagued his mind when he was around the other paladins; it was an escape from every snide comment and hurtful joke they made about him without ever apologizing.

Lance tried to take Chiquita’s pot out of his room as often as possible because the plant seemed to appreciate the extra space, even if she still freaked the other paladins out a little. Pidge was the least freaked out by Chiquita, so Lance usually hung out with her during Chiquita’s excursions. 

Pidge was usually doing research on something or putting together new gadgets to modify the lions, and Chiquita seemed fascinated by all of it. The plant especially liked to “watch” Pidge scribble out notes and draw blueprints for new projects, transfixed by how Pidge could make words and designs appear on a blank sheet of paper.

Once, Pidge was fixing the Green Lion’s cloaking device and Chiquita kept trying to poke at it with curious little tendrils, all of them flinching back when Pidge smacked them away. “Hey,” Lance said, frowning, “be gentle, she’s just curious.”

Pidge huffed. “She’s getting in my way, is what she is.” She raised an eyebrow and looked up at him. “You kinda are, too, Lance.”

Lance folded his arms. “Wow, Pidge, say what you really mean,” he muttered, hurt prickling through him.

She sighed, irritated and distracted. “Listen, I’m just trying to focus on something right now, okay? It’s really important that I fix this stupid thing and your tentacle pet isn’t helping.”

Chiquita curled away uncertainly, turning to Lance. “Fine,” Lance said. “We know when we’re not wanted, don’t we, Chiquita?” But he couldn’t move her pot without Hunk’s help, and Hunk was equally disgruntled when Lance took him away from a cooking session with Coran.

“You should really try to make this thing more portable,” Hunk grumbled as they heaved the pot up and carried it back to Lance’s room, Chiquita’s tentacles waving to and fro all the while. “Put some wheels on it or something.”

“Well, sure, maybe you could help me with that? I’m not a genius engineer like you or Pidge, buddy.”

Hunk scrunched up his nose. “I dunno, Lance, we kinda have more important stuff to worry about.”

Lance scowled. “Oh, what, like showing Coran how to make canapés?”

Hunk set the pot down too hard in Lance’s room and Chiquita jolted at the impact. “Feeding the team is pretty important, Lance. More important than dragging your plant around, anyway.”

Lance stared at him in disbelief. “What is it that you guys have against Chiquita?”

Hunk shrugged. “You’ve just been really distant lately, Lance. Like, you’re not your usual bubbly energetic self. And you spend way more time in your room than you used to.”

“You guys never want me around,” Lance said, looking away.

Hunk blinked. “What? What’re you talking about, Lance? Of course we do.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Lance retorted defensively. “You’ve all got your…your things. You and Coran are always writing up new recipes and going on supply runs, Pidge is always neck deep in research and projects, Allura is constantly strategizing the next plan of attack, and Shiro and Keith are always off somewhere doing recon or scouting or whatever it is they do alone together! I don’t hear you complaining about _them_ being distant!”

Hunk frowned. “Because they’re not distant,” he pointed out. “They still hang out with the rest of us and communicate with the team. And they _are_ doing actual work, Lance, they liberated another planet from a Galra invasion a couple days ago. They work really well together.”

“Great,” Lance hissed. “I’m so happy for them.”

Hunk shook his head. “What’s gotten into you, man? Do…do you wanna talk about something?” He hesitated. “Or, y’know, just a thought, but maybe Chiquita’s infecting you with some kind of, um…weird spores? Maybe it would better if we moved her to a different room for a while –”

“No!” Lance exclaimed, grabbing at Chiquita’s pot protectively. “No way!” Several tendrils wrapped around his wrist, wriggling in concern.

Hunk held up his hands in surrender, eyes wide. “Jeez, okay! No moving Chiquita; got it, noted, sorry I said anything.”

“Coran’s probably waiting for you,” Lance muttered when Hunk still hesitated, looking at him uncertainly.

“Lance, you sure you’re okay? You’re…you’re a part of this team, y’know, and you can talk to us if you need to.”

“I don’t,” Lance said shortly. _You wouldn’t understand. You would just tell me to stop taking everything so seriously, and lighten up like I used to, and pull my weight in the team. But I can’t pull my weight. I’m not a Garrison hero, I’m not a top pilot, I’m not an expert engineer, I’m not a tech genius, I’m not an Altean princess or a badass royal advisor. I’m just Lance and I’m not good enough to keep up with any of you._

Hunk bit his lip. “Okay,” he said, sounding unconvinced but defeated. “I’ll…save you some canapés, yeah?”

“Thanks, bud,” Lance sighed.

Chiquita had poked at his arm, questioning, knowing something was wrong but not understanding what or how. And Lance wasn’t so far gone that he was going to start unloading on a _plant_.

They didn’t mean it; he knew they didn’t – he hoped they didn’t – but the very fact that they didn’t notice how their words affected him just hurt even more. Other than Hunk, they didn’t notice his frustration and the growing unhappiness that twisted like a blade in his gut every time the other paladins shut him out, or Allura shut him down, or Coran cast a long look of disappointment his way. They noticed every single thing he did wrong, but not once did they congratulate him for getting something right. 

So of course none of them noticed how tired he was every morning, or how he went to his room early every night, or how the cloying scent of the ooze clung to his skin. Lance was used to smiling and putting on a brave face but it was wearing on him, and eventually even being with Chiquita couldn’t numb it entirely.

*

It was supposed to be an easy mission, a quick in and out of the Galra prison ship, but instead everything just went straight to hell. Beta Traz was a death trap, more heavily guarded than they’d anticipated, and of course Lance had been the _idiot_ who almost got them killed by picking the wrong Slav. A freaking yupper had almost led to the destruction of Team Voltron.

But how was Lance supposed to know?! How was he supposed to know who Slav was when they had nothing to go on, nothing except his general location? The Blade had given them shit directions and somehow Lance was the one being punished for their mistake, he was the one who got yelled at and criticized and it wasn’t _fair_!

Shiro and the real Slav had been so badly injured in the explosion that they’d been sent straight into the healing pods while Allura shouted and paced and Keith picked apart everything Lance could’ve done to avoid them getting hurt. As if Lance wasn’t just as upset and worried. As if somehow he was personally responsible for sending the shrapnel flying into them.

Pidge was ranting about Matt and how she’d just needed two more minutes to look at the tapes and they would’ve figured out where he was, two more minutes she could’ve gotten if the yupper hadn’t triggered the alarms. Hunk hadn’t even tried to come to Lance’s defense, he was so shaken up about the whole thing, and Coran knew better than to interrupt Allura’s tirade.

But Lance couldn’t take it anymore.

“Do you ever think about _anyone_ but yourself?!” Keith snapped, his eyes red-rimmed and voice shaking with anger and fear. “All you had to do was radio Shiro and tell him what was happening, and nobody would’ve gotten hurt!”

“I told you my radio wasn’t working!” Lance retorted, voice shaking just as badly. “Why don’t you believe me?!”

“You have to stop making such flimsy excuses, Lance, you are a Paladin of Voltron and you cannot act like a child!” Allura cut in.

Lance sneered. “Oh, I’m the one acting like a child, am I? No, you’re the children, you’re the ones who keep pinning the blame on the easy target, on anyone but yourselves, because of course it has to be Lance’s fault, right? Nobody else is such a screw up! Nobody else is even capable of making mistakes, apparently! You’re all perfect fucking heroes and can do no wrong!”

Allura’s eyes widened, and then her brow lowered furiously. “Lance, now is _not_ the time to be starting petty arguments about who is in the wrong, here –”

“Petty,” Lance repeated, his voice low and flat. “You think how I feel about this is petty.”

“Yes, we do!” Keith exclaimed, even though Pidge and Hunk were stepping forwards with troubled expressions as if to protest – but of course they didn’t. “It’s petty when you’re saying all this and you’re the one who’s uninjured, Lance! It would’ve been one thing if you put yourself at risk but you didn’t, you put other people at risk, you put Shiro at risk, you put the target of our entire mission at risk!”

“Lance did put himself at risk, and that’s a whole other problem that we should maybe talk about,” Hunk interjected, but Lance was so, so done with all of this.

“If you think I’m so useless, why don’t you just get a new Blue Paladin already?!” Lance snapped.

The room fell silent.

Then Keith rolled his eyes and said, “Of course you have to make this about yourself,” and Lance turned on his heel and ran out and down the hall before he could let the others see the tears stinging at his eyes. Maybe he _was_ acting like a child. Maybe he just didn’t care anymore. He was just so…so tired of being blamed for everything, of feeling like he was never going to be able to get it right.

He slammed his hand down on the door sensor and set it to locked mode, keeping all the others out though he doubted they would care enough to try to follow him. And if they did, it would probably just be to yell at him some more. Lance hated being yelled at. He hated crying, too, but there was no stopping that now that he’d started.

He bypassed Chiquita’s pot as he stumbled into the room, doors locking shut behind him, and he didn’t see the tentacles looming expectantly overhead as he half-fell into his bed, curling up with his back to the plant and his face buried in his pillow, body shaking with sobs as the tears spilled free. He hadn’t cried in a long time, and his throat burned and his eyes itched and everything was awful but the tears just kept coming.

Then a tentacle brushed over his bare hip where his shirt rode up and Lance flinched hard, shaking his head and burrowing deeper into the bed. “Not right now, Chiquita,” he said thickly. “Kinda not in the mood, if you hadn’t noticed.”

More tentacles joined the first. Lance tensed, and lifted his head. “Chiquita, I said no – augh!”

He was grabbed by the largest ones, binding his arms and legs so quickly that Lance didn’t have time to try to get away. Lance’s eyes widened as they lifted him and he screamed, twisting in panic, a tentacle slapping over his mouth so no one could hear his frantic cries for help.

Oh, fuck, no, _no_ , this was the last thing he needed right now! Lance sobbed harder, tugging at his bonds and kicking out wildly, his thoughts dissolving into hysteria as all of the tentacles wrapped around him, hiding his body from view, smothering him from all sides.

“Stop!” he screamed desperately, the sound barely audible against the tentacle. “I don’t want this, _no_!” He struggled again in a blind panic, but the plant’s grip on him was unyielding. Lance let out a choked whimper and closed his eyes in defeat, tensely awaiting whatever it had in store for him tonight. Maybe it would even be good. Maybe it would help him to forget why he was crying.

But…in his terrified haze, he’d failed to notice that the tentacles weren’t oozing, and they weren’t sliding under his clothes suggestively. He blinked his eyes open and realized they were just holding him, cradling him carefully in the snug, dark cocoon they’d created around him. The cocoon parted briefly and more tentacles placed something warm and soft over him – the blanket from his bed.

As Lance slumped in pure relief, the tentacles uncoiled from his arms and legs and slid away from his mouth, stroking his wet face apologetically. Lance cried harder, curling up and pulling the blanket close to him, sobs wracking his body as Chiquita rubbed his back and smoothed tendrils softly through his hair.

“You’re a good plant,” Lance sniffled, closing his eyes as the tentacles began to rock him soothingly back and forth.

Chiquita just patted his head gently in reply and rocked him slowly to sleep.

*

Lance awoke blearily to a lot of panicked voices and the tentacles tensing around him.

“Oh my god!” Hunk screamed shrilly.

“Is it _eating_ him?!” Pidge cried.

“What did it do to Lance, what should we do; what if he’s dead!?” Hunk yelped.

“Lance? Lance!” Keith shouted, voice genuinely scared. Lance sat up inside his tentacle cocoon, sleepy, rubbing his eyes. “Lance, are you in there?!”

“Oh, no, no,” Allura gasped. “ _Lance!_ ”

“We may have to try to break open this pod thing here,” Coran declared, and the tentacles quivered in alarm, shifting around. There was a slight break in the cocoon as some of them moved away and Lance saw a sliver of the scene before him – Hunk, Pidge, Keith, Allura, and Coran were standing in his room, apparently having broken through the door’s lock somehow, all looking up at Chiquita with horror. 

As Lance watched, though, their expressions shifted to confusion as Chiquita extended a thinner tentacle and began _writing_ on the floor.

Hunk made a strangled sound. “I didn’t know she could do that,” he whispered, turning to Pidge with his eyes bugging out. “I didn’t know Chiquita could do that, why can she do that?!”

“She watched me,” Pidge said dazedly. “She…learned.”

“It learned _cursive_ ,” Keith managed. “What the fuck?”

Chiquita wrote on the floor in glowing cursive ooze, _Lance is sad._

Allura blanched. “Sad?! What – what is the meaning of –”

_you made him sad._

“So you ate him?!” Hunk shrieked.

The tentacles hesitated, then gingerly curled back to reveal Lance where he lay with his blanket in the middle of them.

Everyone’s mouths fell open. “Oh,” Keith said faintly. “That’s…something.”

Lance didn’t want to talk to them just yet, and the tentacles curled back around to hide him from sight as if sensing this. “Hey!” Pidge protested. “Let him go!”

_he is too sad,_ Chiquita wrote.

Coran looked perplexed. “What does that have to do with anything, Chiquita?”

_he does not want you to yell at him again._

Keith and Allura exchanged guilty looks. “We will not yell,” Allura said quietly. “We’re very, very sorry for yelling, Lance…we should never have done so.”

_you made Lance leak._ Chiquita paused, and then crossed out ‘leak’ and wrote ‘cry’ instead.

Hunk’s face crumpled and everyone else looked as guilty as Keith and Allura. “Lance, I’m so sorry,” he said, stepping forward.

“We all are,” Keith added. “I think…I think maybe we’ve been pretty unfair to you, lately.”

“We do not want a new Blue Paladin, Lance,” Allura whispered. “Please forgive us. What can we do to make this right?”

Chiquita waited, giving Lance a chance to reply. He wet his lips and said, “Stop treating me like a seventh wheel. I know I’m not as good at this saving the Universe thing as the rest of you but – oh!”

Chiquita plopped him down onto the ground and immediately everyone was embracing him, apologizing and, in Hunk’s case, squeezing him tightly and babbling that he was gonna be the best best friend ever from here on out and that he was really glad Lance didn’t get eaten.

Over Keith’s shoulder, Lance saw the last thing Chiquita had written on the ground: _he needs a hug._

*

Slav and Shiro emerged from the healing pods shortly after Lance was “freed.” Keith must have told Shiro what happened, because while Slav was ranting about teludavs and the space time continuum to a very frustrated Allura and Coran, Shiro took Lance aside and gave him an entirely unexpected hug. Lance felt like he’d been missing out – Shiro gave really good hugs.

“What was that for?” Lance asked as he stepped away.

“Chiquita said you needed some more hugs, apparently,” Shiro said with a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling like we don’t value you as a team member, Lance. We do, even if we may be bad at showing it – we’re all going to try better, me and Keith especially. We value you as a friend, too, okay? And if you ever need to talk, my door is open to you. Not just as the Black Paladin – as a friend.”

Lance swallowed back the lump in his throat and nodded. “Thanks, Shiro. I…I’m really sorry, too. For what happened at Beta Traz, I –”

Shiro shook his head firmly. “That was in no way your fault, Lance. You did your best given the situation, and that was all anyone could have done. And I know your radio wasn’t working. I don’t blame you for any of that, Lance, and you shouldn’t blame yourself either.”

“Okay,” Lance whispered. _Don’t you dare cry again._ “I’ll…I’ll try not to.”

Shiro clasped his shoulder. “Hey,” he said. “You’re not in this alone, Lance.” He cracked a weak smile. “And I’m sorry it took an alien tentacle plant for us to realize that you felt like you were.”

“Chiquita’s a pretty cool plant,” Lance chuckled. “I’m lucky to have her…whatever she is, exactly.”

Shiro looked thoughtful. “You know…that Slav might be the most annoying alien we’ve ever met, but unfortunately he is as knowledgeable as the Blade said he’d be. He might know what Chiquita is, if you’d like to find out.”

Lance’s heart skipped a beat. Oh, god. If the others found out…then again, Lance did have some questions. But was it really worth it? Lance couldn’t even comprehend the level of embarrassed he would be if –

There was a shout from down the hall, and Allura hurried over to them, wringing her hands. “I’m sorry, Lance, I mentioned Chiquita and he bolted off! I tried to stop him but he was too quick, he’s headed for your room and ranting about something unintelligible!”

Shiro and Lance exchanged bewildered looks and went jogging after Slav. They found him standing in the doorway with an expression of wondrous glee, staring at Chiquita, who wriggled anxiously at the intruder. “I cannot believe it!” Slav exclaimed. “There was only a 0.886% chance that this would be the reality in which the Blue Paladin was the host for an _Amicala pampinalus_ , and yet here we are! Incredible!”

“A what now?” Shiro said, as Lance exclaimed, “The _host_?!”

Chiquita winced at that word. Slav whirled towards them and gestured wildly. “Yes! _Amicala pampinalus_ , colloquially referred to as the “Friendly Vine,” is a very rare and highly advanced species of plant-invertebrate found only in a very narrow stretch of the Triangulum Galaxy!”

“Host,” Lance repeated, sweating, “ _why did you say I was ‘the host’?!_ ”

“Oh, yes, well, you see, the Friendly Vine is utterly defenseless and vulnerable as a seedling, so in order to stay alive long enough to grow into a mature adult, it has evolved to endear itself to other species in various ways,” Slav explained. “Basically it manipulates creatures stronger than itself into caring for it rather than eating or killing it!”

“No offense,” Shiro said doubtfully, “but I don’t exactly feel _endeared_ when I see tentacles.”

Slav shrugged. “Does not matter how you feel, the Blue Paladin was successfully manipulated by the Friendly Vine and it has now imprinted on him!”

“Host,” Lance gritted out. “ _Explain the host thing._ ”

“You are the one it imprinted upon and the one who nurtured it into maturity, thus, its host,” Slav said.

“Yes, yes, I got that,” Lance snapped, “but what about the other stuff?”

“I…do not understand?”

“The ooze!” Lance exclaimed. “The –” Shiro was giving him the side-eye. Lance mentally debated the pros and cons of facing Shiro’s judgment versus never knowing if he was going to have baby Chiquitas burst out of his chest or not. It wasn’t really much of a debate at all.

“How does this thing reproduce?!” he finally blurted out. Shiro’s eye twitched. Lance was never gonna live this one down. 

Slav blinked, nonplussed. “When it reaches the end of its lifetime, the Friendly Vine’s central bulb flowers, and the seeds are released to the air as the plant dies…is this not how plants work on Earth also?”

Lance practically fell against the wall in relief. “Thank the fucking Lord.”

Shiro hissed, “Lance, you did _not_.”

Chiquita attempted to hide behind her own bulb.

Slav, oblivious, continued, “Anyway, the Friendly Vine tends to become very protective over its hosts and often forms a symbiotic relationship with them – once it grows to maturity and is strong enough to protect itself, it in turn protects and cares for the host that allowed it to survive. That is where their name comes from; in fact, they are known for their gentle and nurturing nature and will do most anything to make sure their host is as happy and healthy as they are. As for the ooze that you mentioned earlier, it is a hot commodity on many planets – not only does it work as a healing salve, it can be used as a potent aphrodisiac and as a stimulant to relax the body and ease state of mind.”

“Awesome,” Lance croaked as Shiro stared in utter disbelief at him. “That is. So awesome. Hear that, Chiquita? I knew you were a good plant.”

Tentatively, Chiquita unfurled a tendril and pet his shoulder. Lance patted it and couldn’t help but smile when she curled happily under his touch. Shiro couldn’t seem to close his mouth.

“It’s a very good thing that you have this unique creature, Blue Paladin,” Slav declared brightly. “Because this is also the reality where you have crippling self-doubt, depression, and anxiety disorder! Well, you do in most realities, but the Friendly Vine is only in this one!” Lance flinched. Shiro looked at him with slightly less judgment. Slav continued without noticing either of their reactions. “Friendly Vines are prized on many planets as the ideal therapy plants! This one already cares for you very much, and will do everything in its plant powers to help you, I am certain.”

“Help,” Shiro repeated, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. He looked at Chiquita and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ll _help_ Lance, won’t you?”

Lance flushed darker and elbowed him. “I hate you. Don’t – don’t even _think_ about breathing a word to anyone else about this, or...or I’ll put tentacle ooze in your coffee!”

Shiro folded his arms and snorted. “Believe me, I wish I could remove this knowledge from my own brain immediately, thanks. No way am I passing it on to anyone else.”

Lance squinted suspiciously at him, face still red. “Not even Keith?”

Shiro scrunched up his nose. “Especially not Keith, I think his head would explode.”

Lance snorted. “Yeah. Probably would.”

“Goodbye, Friendly Vine!” Slav said, waving at Chiquita with all of his hands. She gave him a timid tentacle wave back and he beamed before hurrying out of the room.

Shiro looked at Chiquita and then at Lance, eyebrows still raised. “Well,” he said after a pause, “if it makes you happy, then, I’m. Uh. Happy for you. Still pretty weird though, Lance, sorry.”

“Not denying the weirdness,” Lance sighed. “But thanks.”

“However,” Shiro said, narrowing his eyes at Chiquita and pointing with his Galra arm, “if the situation ever _changes_ …”

“Yeah, yeah, no need to give Chiquita the ‘don’t mess with me’ talk,” Lance said hurriedly, because Chiquita was looking pretty frightened by the metal arm. “I think she got it loud and clear. Besides, you heard Slav – they’re not exactly Xenomorphs.”

“Thankfully,” Shiro said with a shudder. Then his face softened and he chuckled, shaking his head. “You _would_ manage to find the only friendly tentacle monster in the Universe, Lance.”

“Yeah,” Lance murmured, warmth blooming in his chest as he watched the tendrils draw little blue ooze hearts over his forearm, “I guess I did.”


End file.
